


Beautiful

by michinnyun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Arranged Marriage, Clothed Sex, Complete, Cunnilingus, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Glove Kink, I promise, Kissing, Making Out, Nice Armitage Hux, Regency, Regency Romance, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, i don't think it's period accurate, just a little angst hopefully not too much, question mark, the writing gets better as it goes on, very briefly tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22194619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michinnyun/pseuds/michinnyun
Summary: Armitage Hux has taken a wife. Unfortunately for you, you're his new bride. You're trying to battle your fast growing feelings for your husband, but your apprehension is fading faster and faster.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Reader, Armitage Hux/You
Comments: 33
Kudos: 236





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @meowthist on tumblr

Your shoes clacked on the marble floor as droplets of sweat tracked down your face. You glanced to the side at the lieutenant at your arm, his face cold and unyielding. This was it. You took a deep breath as you approached the altar, the world blurred by your veil. The train of the beautiful white dress that had been made to fit you like a glove trailed behind you, lacy fabric webbing the floor. You were underwater, all words compressed with that eery quality found in deep, dark depths. Your lower lip trembled as the veil was lifted and you came face to face with your captor. Green eyes peered back at you. You traded a loveless kiss. You turned and were met with applause, head held high. Each beat pounded on you. A death toll. You smiled weakly and looked on your husband, who, if you didn't know any better, looked just as pale as you felt.

_____

Floating down the hallways of your new estate in a dress finer than anything you'd ever seen or had back home, you considered all that had brought you here. An alliance, as if people were objects to be traded in exchange for peace. You sneered, facing a window. Placing your hands on the rough stone, you gazed outside at the rolling hills and clear blue sky.

"What a beautiful cage," you murmured, as steps echoed towards you. You felt a presence at your back. They said your name softly. "Supper will be ready shortly my Lady. Master Hux requests that you dine with him tonight."

You turned to face her, or rather, look up at her. You often forgot how tall Phasma was. Still facing the window, you sighed, cold dread dripping down your back like rain. You knew it was a dangerous game to avoid your husband this long.

You looked up at Phasma. "Do I have a choice?" you asked softly. She didn't look back at you. You followed her down the hall.

Portraits of his ancestors lined the walls, intricate oils of men with fiery hair and stern expressions. Their coats boasted badges upon badges of honor and bravery, weighing down their chests. You wondered if any of them had ever cracked a smile, or shared a bout of laughter with someone they loved, or even loved anyone for that matter. You wondered if their descendant would be any different.

Your attention was divided as you approached the door. Phasma bowed as she pulled it open. You nodded at her, slipping inside, where your husband was already waiting for you. He stood when he heard you enter.

"Ah, you're here. Good." This was clearly an awkward affair for him too. You wondered absently if he even remembered your name before you both sat down and dinner was served. You looked down at your plate, for all the world not hungry. Mr. Hux, or Armitage as he'd asked you to call him in private after your wedding, clearly did not share your lack of appetite.

You sat primly and glanced at the guards as he dug in. Wondering if one of them would kill you if you tried to leave, your attention drifted back to your husband. Very pale, with high cheekbones and pink lips. He wasn't terrible looking, and even had table manners, something you were thankful for after horror stories from the women of your village. Maybe this would translate to other areas of his life, with luck.

He noticed you weren't eating as you silently decided you didn't like his hairstyle. "Are you going to eat?" he asked after swallowing and setting down his utensils. You started, having been caught staring. A blush crossed your face, while the faintest ghost of a smile graced his lips. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I'm not very hungry." You pushed your plate forward slightly, for emphasis. He sighed. "I suppose I've asked too much of you by requesting your presence at our table?" Armitage was clearly teasing, something you were surprised he was even capable of.

"No, no, of course not sir, I'm just feeling a bit under the weather is all," you stammered, growing redder by the second. He'd at least had the mercy not to question why you hadn't made an appearance at his chambers on your wedding night, you thought frantically. Now you were being rude by denying his hospitality.

"Worry not," he blotted his face with his napkin. "Dinner is over. You may return to your chambers, if you'd like." You deflated in secret relief. "You're very gracious sir." He looked sad as he stood and slinked towards you. You swallowed down the anxiety in your stomach like a rock as he leaned close to kiss your cheek and whisper, "You still haven't called me Armitage yet." He swiftly swept himself away, heading out of the dining room to wherever he intended to go, leaving you sweating in your seat, your face burning where he had kissed it.

____

The next day, there was a knock at your door. Standing to answer it, you saw a familiar face. Phasma, again. "Master Hux wishes for you to accompany him on a walk through the estate." Your eyes widened as you looked slightly past her out the door. A slight figure with neat red hair stood there, facing away from you. You looked back at Phasma. "Please let the General know that I appreciate his offer, but have taken ill again this evening, and will not be able to join him. However, if he wishes to ask me himself on another occasion, I will be more than happy to oblige him." You watched the figure stiffen and walk away as Phasma gave you a chiding look. You sniffed and shut the door, returning to your embroidery.

_____

The next time someone knocked on your door, it was Armitage behind it. "Yes, Mr. Hux?" you squeaked. The suggestion for him to come to your door personally had been terribly improper; you didn't think he'd actually take you up on it. "May I enter?" he asked in a deeper tone than he'd ever used before, making something curl low in your gut. You hesitated, wondering if you could refuse him. Despite his shy manner with you, you knew what kind of man he really was. You knew what he had done, was capable of. You knew why you were married to him, and hated yourself for feeling a growing attraction, spurring you to let him in.

You swallowed your trepidation as you opened the door slightly more, and he worked his way into your room. He glanced at your embroidery with detached interest, seeing your quilts and fabrics draped on the chair and spilling out of your trunk.

"I'm afraid I was not exactly prepared for a visitor this evening... Armitage." You gave in, using his first name now that you were alone. He purred with obvious pleasure, sitting down on the quilt covering your bed. An awkward silence covered the room like a blanket as you appraised each other in the flickering candlelight. "Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit, General?" you asked, crossing your arms.

He folded his own arms, mimicking your movement, and licked his lips. You followed the movement with your eyes. "Yes. I'd like to know why you've been avoiding me." You froze, unsure of what to say. He waited patiently for your answer. The awkward silence dragged on as you stood above him, weighing your options. Finally, you sighed, dropping your arms from your chest. "Do you really need to ask why?" The question was a ghost in the air. You avoided eye contact, unsure of where to look in the room. Being honest was a risk, but if this man was to be your husband for the rest of time, you at least needed to know if that time would be cut short if you let him know how you truly felt.

He sighed. He seemed to do a lot of that. "I suppose I don't," he relented, still trying to catch your gaze.

"You took me from the only home I've ever known," you said, despite his admission. "Your army conquered my people and you took me as a prize. Knowing I'm the only reason my village hasn't been destroyed is... troubling. I don't know whether to feel flattered or sick to my stomach." Despite your words, you sat next to him on the bed. In the corner of your eye, you could see a finger twitch where his hands still sat folded across his chest. You let yours rest on your lap, studying the creases in your knuckles as you waited for him to respond.

"It's... a little strange, I admit. I wasn't looking for a wife. I think Kylo Ren knew this." You noticed he said his name with disdain. Kylo Ren, the Field Marshal. You knew little of politics, but you knew that with the death of the old Field Marshal Snoke, Hux had been next in the natural line to lead. However, Kylo had been borne to stronger stock, his family more influential. You'd wondered when you found out of your engagement if he was bitter about this. You supposed he was. "My family is gone. I'm the sole heir to my estate. I suppose it's dishonest to say that this was a fair trade. You were rumored to be the most beautiful woman in the village," he admitted. "I'm surprised Ren didn't take you for himself." You blushed, staring at your hands even harder, determined not to look at him.

He put his hands in his lap, mimicking you again. He reached over and placed a pale hand over yours. "I don't think the rumors did you justice," he muttered, looking over at you again. You met his gaze, studying him. The candlelight made the green in his eyes almost gold, giving them an other-worldly quality. You watched as they dropped down to your lips, flickering in the light. "I can't just forget what you've done in the name of conquest," you said, despite feeling yourself getting closer to him, a magnetic pull, an attraction so undeniable that you could feel your body grow warm and the hair on your neck stand on edge.

"I know," he said softly. His lips were centimeters from yours. "But I think," he said, licking his lips. "I think there's a part of you that wishes to be close to me as I do you. And I'd like to get to know her a little better." The room was silent as you collided, softly, slowly, like the flame burning on your desk.

His hand came to cup your cheek as his thumb brushed your face. You were surprised a man who no doubt commanded harshly, who served evil, who seemed to be made of nothing but sharp angles, could kiss so gently. He had taken you from your home, but he was kissing you so sweetly it snatched your breath from your chest. Gently, you laid back, and he chased your lips, hovering over you as the flowing gossamer fabric of your dressed pooled around you on the bed. You kissed him back, fingers spanning the smooth surface of his chest over the dark uniform he always wore. Your hands traveled, arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him deeper until you were gasping and holding each other closer.

A low moan worked its way out of his chest, making you shiver. The slide of your lips against each other was obscene but you drank in every second of it, your face practically glowing and every nerve on fire as he held you and stole your pretty sighs. You ran your fingers through his hair, ruining its careful style. Your fingers became sticky and waxy, bringing you back to reality.

You pulled away gently and looked into his eyes, the green almost overrun by the black in his dilated pupils. You looked up at where your hands still lay nestled in his hair, and decided, not without fondness, that you liked it much better this way. You brushed falling tendrils from his face.

"I will walk with you on the morrow," you informed him breathlessly. He smiled and kissed your nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaa Hux x reader is not something I'm usually into but lately it's become kind of a guilty pleasure. I got the wires of arranged marriage and Hux crosses in my mind and couldn't not write this. Sorry!!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Hux have a little stroll and then enjoy some more sweet kisses under the cover of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @meowthist on tumblr

Standing next to the trellises heavy with honeysuckle, Armitage looked something akin to the portraits in the hall, but less severe, more contemplative.

His auburn hair flashed in the light as he turned toward you, significantly more dressed down than you had ever seen him. His hair was perfectly in place, disappointingly. Last night you found that you rather preferred it out of sorts, endearingly mussed. You caught the smile before it could rise to your lips. You had decided, laying in your bed after your dalliance with your husband, that you would not let your feelings go beyond what was necessary for your arrangement. Just because you were married to the man didn't mean you had to put aside what he had commanded right away. Nodding with a gentle curtsy, you took his proffered arm and began a slow stroll around the garden. 

The garden was quite beautiful. You had a feeling that if you ever mustered the courage to leave your chambers, this could be your favorite place during the warm months. Fat honeybees circled blood-red poppies, while bluebells swayed in the slight breeze, wafting fragrant perfumes into the air. "A lovely day," Armitage remarked, breaking the silence. You looked up at him and noticed he was already gazing at you with fondness. You blushed when you made eye contact, cursing the blood in your face for betraying you so easily. "Truly," you replied without affect, still trying your hardest to maintain distance. You continued your walk out of the garden in more companionable silence, watching the waves of grass shift and sway in the wind. "What did you do to pass the time in the village?" he asked, surprising you. He knew the village was a touchy subject, but still decided the risk was worth taking in order to engage conversation, it seemed. You shrugged, rather un-ladylike you noted with satisfaction.

"The same thing I do here, I suppose. I embroider. It was something I could do anywhere I pleased. The only difference was the people." You turned your eyes down to your feet when he cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

"Are things so different now?" He phrased it, if you didn't know any better, guiltily. You sniffed. "I don't mean to snub you, Mr. Hux. You've been quite kind to me, despite the circumstances. I'm thankful for your genteel manner, and I know things could be worse for me. But yes, things are quite different." Tears welled in your eyes to think of all the differences. The warmth of your home. The comfort of your friends. You missed Rey, though you knew she was well cared for by Master Ren. At least, you hoped that was the case. You knew Armitage had not been lying when he said he was surprised Ren hadn't taken you. He didn't know he'd taken your dearest friend instead. 

You delicately dabbed a tear with your ring finger while making sure Armitage couldn't see under your bonnet from where he was angled. He patted your other hand, still wrapped around his crooked elbow, as if sensing your welling emotions. He left it there.

You noticed the two of you had stopped walking at the crest of one of the hills. More fields stretched across your lengthy estate, trees edging around the corners. A small bridge yawning over a brook broke up the landscape, snaking in and out of the woods. In the distance, you could see the town that should've been part of your husbands territory, nearly obscured by the mist still rising from the morning. You shook your head from that line of thought. When did you ever grow a sense of entitlement on your husbands behalf? He had never even mentioned to you that he desired to lead, even if you very much suspected it.

A sigh rattled its way out of his chest, distracting you. You glanced over to catch him staring at you in that unnameable way of his again. "Why do you look upon me so?" you said, to deflect attention from your glowing cheeks. He answered simply, "Because you're beautiful." You felt your embarrassment growing. "Lucky for you," you breathed. "An ugly wife would've been even more difficult to bear." He laughed. "I don't find you difficult." You felt him turn to face you. "I enjoy your honesty. It's... refreshing." You felt hands at your hips, but still refused to look him in the face.

"I suppose if you didn't feel the way you did about our arrangement you wouldn't be human. I felt the same way at first." He gently tilted your chin up with a gloved hand and you inhaled sharply, emerald eyes trapping you like they had on your wedding day. A flash passed through your mind, an image of Armitage standing at your side after you had kissed, looking paler than you would ever think to be possible, now.

It had never occurred to you, even after what he had said the night before, that he wouldn't have wanted to take a wife. All suitable men his age were in want of a wife. You had assumed he had meant that upon taking control of your tiny village, as a General, he hadn't been expecting to find a wife. Not that he hadn't been looking for one at all, even outside of his duties. You wondered if he longed for freedom just as you did.

His other hand grasped one one yours and held it to his chest. "My wife," he said with reverence. It was the first time he had called you that. "I would like it very much if we could come to love each other one day." His face seemed to be the one warming up now. "If anything, I'd at least want for you to tolerate me," he said, cracking a smile.

You returned it, leaning your head into his chest and feeling him wrap his arm around you as you tucked your chin into your still intertwined hands. He hummed somewhere above you.

"I think I could manage that."

___

A few nights later, you combed your long hair in front of the mirror, stroking each silky tendril with care, reflecting on the day you had. Dinner with Armitage had provided more constructive conversation, and you managed not to bring up the involuntary nature of your marriage for an entire hour. You had learned much about your husband. His family was long involved in the military, but you could gather that much just from walking the halls of his ancestral home.

You learned that he talked about his father with the same disdain he discussed Kylo Ren, and that surrounding his mother was a certain sadness. He spoke of both of them in the past tense. He seemed hesitant to discuss his military duties, but it seemed much of them were in training individual soldiers and overseeing them, ensuring they were in top shape for battle. You were surprised at how much information you were made to coax out of him, considering he was the one who had requested that you become closer with each other.

Startled from your thoughts by a knock at the door, you set your comb down. It was a beautiful object of polished wood, one of the few things you had been allowed to take with you from home. You stood to answer your visitor, with a suspicion that you already knew who it was calling upon you at such a late hour. You cracked open the door, the movement already beginning to feel familiar. "Hello husband," you whispered to Armitage. His face lit up in a hesitant smile. He had been making secret visits to your chambers at night, a funny thought, considering you were meant to share a bed. A warmth began to glow in your chest that you still welcomed with some reluctance. The door opened wider and he swept you into his arms in his strange way; stiff, but still affectionate. He whispered your name, just holding you.

You held him back, sinking your nose into the fabric and inhaling in a way you hoped was unnoticeable. You were still hesitant to fully throw yourself into your affection, despite how easily you seemed to give in whenever he was near. There was something comforting in his scent, though you supposed it was meant to surround you now. He smelled distinct from the rest of the manor. You wondered if his room smelled like him, too. 

Soon, you found yourself standing rooted to the ground as he shifted and buried his face in your neck. The warmth of him was a furnace, contrasting with the cool night air coming in from the open window. He pressed chaste kisses to your collarbone, setting you on fire as he created a path up your neck to your cheek, then nose, then your eyelids, to your forehead, finally forcing you to look at him as he stood gently breathing above you. You pretended not to notice the pounding of your heart, which surely could be heard all the way in town, and could not be construed as entirely proper.

"You seem flustered, wife," he said the endearment hesitantly, softly. "I find it frustrating how easily you are able to break down my defenses, Armitage," you breathed, sure your tone was betraying some underlying heat you were unwilling at the moment to acknowledge.

He chuckled. "You were the one to greet me with a sweet little, 'Hello, husband,'" he recreated your conspiratorial tone perfectly. He leaned low to whisper in your ear as you wrapped your arms around his neck, "I think we both know your defenses were broken down before I arrived." How thankful you were for him to be holding on, as a strange faintness nearly overcame you.

How was it that he had infiltrated your room several nights in a row, with no effort from you to fight back against his evil seduction, nearly bringing you to your knees with a few hushed words? Were you really so weak as to abandon all of your perfectly valid reasons to detest this man? A whine escaped you involuntarily as his lips grazed the shell of your ear and he pulled you closer possessively, nuzzling into the side of your freshly combed hair. 

You stood there, holding each other, for a while. You tried to stop yourself from becoming overwhelmed with emotion. Armitage must have heard a hitch in your breath, because he softly murmured, "What's wrong, dearest?" A hand shifted to the small of your back, rubbing back and forth gently. "No one's ever held me like this before," you said in a voice barely above a whisper. You felt him move until you were face to face yet again. "Held you like what?" A glint in his eyes was challenging you, daring you to speak words unbidden.

You turned your head down shyly. "Like they love me."

Glancing back up at him, you were treated to another one of his rare smiles, the ones he always seemed to save for you. It was crooked and lit up his face with a charm that was so different from his stern demeanor. He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, telling you something without needing words. It seemed strange to you, you thought as you ran your fingers up the back of his neck, strange how easily you had come to care for this stranger. You had only been in his acquaintance for a mere few weeks, but you were beginning to feel privy to some secret affection he felt only for you. Curiouser was the affection you kept locked inside for him. It was burning through now, shining as he held you fast, made you positively lightheaded as he pressed soft kisses onto your mouth. 

He always managed to banish thoughts of resistance from your mind with his soft sighs and strong hands, resistance from a man responsible for doubtless suffering. You wanted to believe that wasn't essential to who he was. You chose to believe it now, as you stepped back and fell onto the bed with him following on top of you.

Your kisses grew in urgency as he traced anxious patterns with his fingers on your arm. Shaking hands raked through his careful style, releasing strands that brushed your face with a painters stroke. You smiled into the kiss, pulling back and staring at him above you. His face was flushed and his eyes were wide, taking in the moonlight cast on your face.

A hand cupped your cheek as you stroked his freed locks. "I like it better this way," you whispered, watching with fascination as he transformed from an uptight general to a guileless man under your hands.

He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss into the palm. "It's not regulation." You laughed, a light sound that broke the quiet of the night. He smiled at you, eyes crinkling around the corners in a way you had never seen before.

You wrinkled your nose as his eye contact ceased to waiver. "What? You don't like it when I stare?" he teased, kissing down the pulse in your arm. You squirmed under him, feeling cool air on the spots left behind by his lips. "I find it disconcerting how often you choose to admire my countenance." He kissed his way all the way to your shoulder, finding himself at the sensitive skin connecting your neck to your collarbone for the second time that night. "Am I not allowed to admire my wife?" he murmured as he grazed his lips on your skin. You shuddered when he made full contact and sucked gently. Writhing, you brought your arms up fully to wrap around his neck as he latched onto you.

"Aa!" A noise you had never made before rose from your throat. Armitage released you, eyes blown wide with, you realized hysterically, lust. "I-I-I'm sorry, Armitage, I don't know what came over me, I-" He covered your stammering lips with his own, quieting your anxiety. You moaned softly into the kiss, squeaking when he responded with a growl. He crawled further over you, crowding you with a possessiveness you didn't know he was capable of. Cradling the back of your head with his one hand, he placed the other next to you on the bed to support himself. His lips were so soft, and you pulled him impossibly closer as you nipped his bottom lip. Groaning at your boldness, he moved his hand to cup your cheek and kissed harder, stealing the air from your lungs. You were on fire, a sweltering heat overcoming your very soul as you moved together and something in you ached. The kiss broke, and his hooded eyes looked down at you as you both panted in earnest, catching your breath. 

Whatever had just happened, the air between you was tense with something unspoken, the silence ready to snap. You cupped his face in both your hands. "I think it's becoming much easier to tolerate you, Armitage," you said, shakily. He laughed as he buried you in a hug, still hovering above you on the mattress. Kissing the side of his face, you laughed along with him, breaking up your laughter with a sigh of, "Oh yes, much easier," as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Uncoiling himself from you and then standing, he cleared his throat, a small smile still on his face. "I should be returning to my chambers." He seemed reluctant to leave you. You stood up next to him, smoothing the lines in your skirt and pretending like the last few minutes had not been the most scandalous of your life.

Not scandalous, you chided yourself. It's perfectly normal to engage in these activities with your husband. You hadn't fully convinced yourself before he leaned over to give you one last kiss, whispering, "Good night, wife." You smiled and gave him another peck on the lips before he could fully turn to leave. "Good night, husband."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love repression. Also Hux's hair needs to be messed up more if you know what I mean >:)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You awaken the next morning to the consequences of fraternizing with your husband. You welcome a new member into your household, then, you host a ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @meowthist on tumblr

When you rose the next morning, the cloud of a dream hung in a haze over your eyes. You realized with alarm that there was a dampness between your legs, but surely it was too early to be starting your courses? Frantically checking your night gown, you realized there was no stain to be found. The details of your dream started to come back to you with startling clarity. 

_Hands grabbing, grasping as he sucked kisses into your skin, bodies moving and writhing and gasping on the bed, shaking and moaning and crying out and-_

You shook your head, desperate to change your stream of thought. Sitting up completely, you put your head in your hands to stop the heat flooding your cheeks. These sinful fantasies were making you faint with guilt, and there was a strange ache between your already sticky thighs. Glancing over at your vanity mirror, you gasped as your hands flew up to your throat. A small purplish bruise, faint, but still noticeable, was forming on your collarbone. You groaned. Fueling the fire of your alarm, you heard a knock at your door. 

Scrambling, you repositioned yourself and clamped your legs together to avoid arousing suspicion while you strategically moved your hair so the mark would not be visible as you shouted, "Enter!" and the door creaked open.

Phasma peeked her head through and addressed you. "My lady, Master Hux will be hunting today with Admiral Sloane in the next town over. He'll be unavailable for the next few days." Despite your panic, you felt disappointment sinking into your stomach. "Oh. Thank you for informing me, Phasma." You folded your hands over your lap, attempting to maintain an air of casualty. Phasma stepped into the room more as she continued to speak. "We'll also be hosting a ball upon his return to celebrate another domestic victory." You froze. Another town seized? You wondered what they had done to be assailed. You weren't quite sure what your little village had done either. Between settling domestic disputes and attempting to increase their numbers with aggressive recruitment, you wondered just exactly when the military had time to fight the war happening overseas. 

"High ranking officers will be in attendance, so we must prepare for them. Invitations were sent out yesterday, replies will be expected on the morrow," Phasma informed you, eyeing the embroidery draped over your desk next to the extinguished candle.

You were taken aback. "Such an important event on such short notice, Phasma?" She pressed her lips into a thin line. "Master Ren requested it." She lowered her voice. "I think he's trying to test the household, to make a fool of the General if we fail." Your brow furrowed. That simply wouldn't do. You had never known grandeur on the scale that you were now accustomed to, but you had always had a taste for refinement, and determination set itself inside of your heart to host a splendid event, to show your husbands cohorts that your estate was in top order. 

"Oversee preparations. I'll join you after I've made myself presentable." She nodded her head as she turned towards the door, pausing for a moment. "I'm glad to see you're becoming more comfortable in your station, miss," she said. You smiled at her. "Me too, Phasma." You looked out the window to the grey sky. "Me too."

___

Armitage returned a few days later, as promised, when the clouds had cleared and the wind was beginning to chill your skin. You had taken your embroidery to the library, finally having found the courage to venture past the hall immediately outside of your room. You'd been sitting for hours perfecting the chain stitch on a handkerchief when you heard the distinct sounds of a carriage outside.

Rising from the chaise, you left the cloth where you had been sitting, rushing over to the window just in time to see a figure clad in black with neat red hair emerge from the carriage holding an indistinct ball of orange fluff. You squinted, trying to see what it was exactly that he had contained in his arms, but you were too far to make them out completely. You turned from the window, wondering if you should greet him while you tugged on the lace of your gloves. 

Frozen with indecision, you finally huffed and strode out of the library. Descending the grand staircase, you stopped somewhere down the middle. No need to appear too eager to see him. The door to the entrance opened and you watched Armitage sweep in as he usually did. Your attention, however, was quickly drawn to the orange blob you had spied at the window, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a scruffy ginger cat. It meowed indignantly upon seeing you, as if begging you to free it from the prison of your husbands arms. 

"A cat?" you found yourself saying, causing Armitage to finally notice you standing on the staircase, distracted as he was by the creature trying to escape. He looked sheepish as the orange ball of anxiety calmed down, passing on liberation for now. "I was hoping to surprise you." He walked up the stairs to meet you, and you tentatively raised a hand to run your fingers through the animal's matted fur. "I was going to have her cleaned and perhaps fitted with a collar, however I wasn't expecting you outside your chambers." Your eyes raised to meet his, and you realized he'd said his last words with some elation. 

He was happy you'd come to see him.

You smiled hesitantly and continued petting the cat, who decidedly preferred this treatment if her thunderous purring was any indication. "May I inquire as to what you've named her?" you asked. "Millicent," he replied fondly. "We found her in the woods during the hunt. Surprised the dogs didn't get her." He sniffed. "The admiral implored me to leave her behind." You looked up at him, disdain written across his features.

You wondered if he enjoyed the company of any of his military compatriots as he bent down, letting her sniff out her new home. He stood, brushing the hair off of his coat as you regarded him with warmth. You weren't alone; servants were still bringing in his things from the carriage, but you couldn't resist the urge to tuck yourself into his chest as he made a noise of surprise. 

He quickly recovered, wrapping his arms around you. "I've missed you," you whispered, burying your hands into the fabric and examining the shiny buttons. He chuckled at your admission, pulling back. "It's been but a few days, dearest," he teased. The way he looked at you, however, betrayed his true feelings. He had missed you just as much as you had missed him. You leaned up, brushing your lips against his, the breath leaving his body in a rush. 

"My wife is full of surprises today," he murmured when you moved back, his cheeks nearly matching his hair in vibrancy. 

You smiled shyly and looked away. "Everything is in order for the ball," you said, moving back up the stairs. He followed you, tilting his head as he listened to the lilt of your voice. "Phasma and the others have ensured that everything will go smoothly, all I had a hand in was choosing silverware, music, the like," you said, anxiety tinging your voice, fearful he might find your decisions lacking. As you found yourself at the top of the staircase, you felt a hand reach out to touch your hip comfortingly. "I'm sure it'll be a lovely affair," he said, kissing your forehead. You let out a shaky sigh. "I hope so," closing your eyes and letting yourself bask in his affection. 

___

You greeted your guests with great fervor, showing them what an excellent hostess was capable of, ensuring the ball would be spoken of with great fondness for months to come. The wives of the officers eyed you with suspicion, the outsider of low station. It mattered not. You smiled and ensured they were having a most pleasant evening, introducing yourself as Mrs. Hux with pride for the first time. From across the room you could see your husband locked in serious conversation with the other high-ranking officers.

You briefly caught his eye and smiled at him, watching as the corner of his mouth lifted microscopically before he returned his attention to a tall man with grey hair and an equally grey disposition. You felt a lour wipe away your grin. He was extremely dissimilar from himself, even more austere and restrained than he usually was, a stranger with the personage he'd learned mastery over. You gathered it came with the territory of possessing high station all your life. You'd just have to become accustomed to it.

People were gathering to dance as you turned your head and saw her. Your heart stopped its beating in your chest, the world coming to a standstill. "Rey," you whispered, and there, as if she had heard you, she locked eyes with you, mouthing your name in a similar fashion. 

You crossed the room to her in boundless strides, oppressive and judgmental eyes following you. As you approached, your eyes cleared and your attention came to the man at her arm. 

Tall, gangly, with a large nose and puffy lips. Not entirely ugly, but certainly not handsome like your Armitage. You didn't have time to be startled by your unbidden thoughts as you felt Mr. Hux himself sidle up next to you.

"Kylo Ren," Armitage said coolly, resting a hand at the small of your back in what felt like a warning. You shouldn't have felt surprise, and yet, you kicked yourself internally. How had you not realized that Kylo Ren would be in attendance? Of course your beloved Rey would be his guest, he had taken her as a wife, after all. For some reason, the thought had never occurred to you, and you stared, dumb founded at the pair of them. 

"Armitage," he nodded at your husband. You glanced at Armitage to watch him squint imperceptibly in contempt. "And this," he turned, regarding you, "Must be your lovely bride." He grasped your hand where it lay hanging limp at your side to raise it to his lips and kiss the air above it. It took all of the strength you possessed not to snatch it from him and smack the smug expression from his face. "You're acquainted with my wife?" He gestured next to him.

Rey, for her account, looked as prepossessing as the day you had left. A bandeau was in her hair, curls framing her face while a neutral expression graced her features. Something wasn't entirely right. In your memories, Rey had been fiercely independent and strong-headed, bold, uncompromising. She could've led an army into battle had she been born a man. This silent and passive Rey was of an entirely different sort than the girl you had known.

"Yes," you whispered. "Once." Ren and your husband disregarded your statement, becoming engaged in conversation as you silently regarded Rey, unsure what course of action you would be best inclined to take. 

"Yes, well, if we're to amass a force of that size for His Majesty, perhaps you ought to cease your abuse of my troops. Perchance we wouldn't have so many defectors to replace," Armitage said with barely concealed rage in response to something Kylo had said that you hadn't quite caught, distracted as you were. The Field Marshall himself looked to be on the verge of an apoplectic fit, shaking as his face grew red with anger. "If your troops weren't so incompetent, perhaps then I wouldn't need to remind them of their duties, General," he spat your husbands title as your alarm grew. "Careful, Ren, that your personal feelings not cloud your better judgement. It'd be a shame if my esteemed guests were forced to bear witness to another tantrum, and on such a fine night." He smirked as Kylo peered at him with murderous eyes.

You had never seen your husband behave this way. You felt disgust for both of them crawl up your throat and threaten to boil over as you turned once again to Rey and said, "Rey, come, let us become reacquainted while the men carry on." You grabbed her free hand and whisked her away to the library before anyone could protest.

She followed, staggering as if lost in a dream. When you finally reached the room you exhaled in relief, glad to find it empty as you dragged her inside and closed the large doors behind you. 

You encased her in a hug, crestfallen when she did not return the embrace with equal elation. "Rey," you said, stepping back from her. "What's happened to you?" Her eyes looked glassy as she stared back at you and tears filled her eyes. She whispered your name. "I don't know where to start." 

You sat her on the chaise and rested your hand over hers. "You can tell me anything, of course you can, my dearest friend," you squeezed, hoping all of your loneliness, your uncertainty, the fear and doubt and hopelessness you had felt for the previous month would be transferred through your skin. She was the only person in the world who could ever begin to understand what you felt. 

She said your name again before she spoke, "I-I've made so many mistakes," she inhaled a shaking breath. "I'm the reason you're here, I'm the reason you were made to marry General Hux, it's all my fault." A sob escaped her, and she clapped a hand to her mouth to stop the traitorous noise from traveling any farther.

Your brow furrowed as your thumb stroked her hand. "Rey, I'm sure that can't be true," she was already shaking her head as you spoke the words aloud. "Oh, but it is, it is, my friend, it's my fault." You gave her a minute to calm herself before she continued her impassioned speech. "Kylo Ren, he'd been visiting me in secret for months before we were attacked." Her eyes were stuck to the ceiling, unable to look you in the face for a moment longer. You sat in silent shock. "He asked for my hand, but I couldn't be with him, I just couldn't, and so he ordered the attack on the village, and oh, I could drop dead at the thought that I caused the unhappiness of so many, had everything we loved be destroyed." 

You stared at her in disbelief. She continued, "In the end, I agreed to marry him anyway, to put an end the pointless violence." Rey's gaze fell upon you with a waterfall of emotions.

"It wasn't enough," she whispered.

Suddenly you understood everything with perfect clarity. You. Her closest and most trusted friend, made to marry the man he carried a most egregious contempt for. He'd meant for you to be driven mad with loneliness by someone who hadn't been in search of a wife, who was cold and temperamental in the public eye, who surely could never show a woman proper attention. He'd never accounted for Armitage's privately genteel disposition, his proclivity for making you smile, and swoon, and feel a thousand other things you could never have dreamed of.

He'd never intended for you to fall in love.

Another thought you had little time for, regardless of the erratic beat of your heart, as well as the panic that came with the realization.

"It's my fault you're married to the General," she said, voice wet with guilt. "It's my fault you're to spend the rest of your days with him."

You patted Rey's hand. "Rey," you said, ensuring that your eyes were level. "You needn't worry about me. I'm happy here." You looked down at your hands. "Armitage treats me well. Despite everything, he's quite the gentleman." Your cheeks heated. You'd never discussed this with another soul before. "It's you I worry after," you continued. "How can you stand being with that man?" you asked, in reference to her husband. She knitted her brows together, taken aback by your admission. After a moment of contemplation, she answered. "I'm not sure I have a choice. He has quite the temper, but he can be kind when he wants to be. Kylo's fallen victim to the sin of pride. It would take whole lifetimes for him to change."

You nodded, not sure how to help her. Armitage himself was admittedly a prideful man, but you weren't sure if it matched the scale of his superior.

She leaned in conspiratorially. "Kylo Ren's not even his Christian name," she said in a hushed tone. It was your turn to be shocked. "He took on a new title to separate himself from his household, to prove himself as an autonomous member of society." You giggled, "Clearly Master Ren's failed in that regard. His family's reputation is the only reason he holds such high station."

Rey shrugged. "Whatever the case, he's loathe to entertain mentions of his family." You nodded. "Armitage is much the same. Perhaps our husbands need to be introduced to each other in a friendlier light. They'll find they have more in common than they previously assumed." She tittered behind a gloved hand, "Or perhaps they'd best be reacquainted with the proper manners one should address other persons with. That row in the ballroom was quite a spectacle." You laughed with her, happy to see the tone of conversation return to some level of normalcy. 

"Perhaps we should be making our return," you said, brushing nonexistent wrinkles from your cream skirt.

You stood to leave the library, Rey following close behind as you engaged in more pleasant conversation, reminiscing on days long past, a girlhood lost to time. 

Your husband appeared from seemingly thin air, bowing politely and addressing Mrs. Ren, before asking if you'd oblige him with a dance. You glanced at Rey and she smiled sadly at you, encouraging you to take your husbands proffered arm.

You nodded at her in farewell before being swept into a waltz by Armitage, nearly tripping in momentary surprise. He chuckled as you held yourself upright and matched his pace. "I didn't know my wife to be a skilled dancer," he teased. You followed the rhythm of the strings playing in the corner, concentrating on the hand on your hip. "There's many things left to learn of me, husband," you said with a small amount of bitterness, still not completely at peace with his behavior from earlier. He noticed.

"I apologize for my manner of speech earlier in the evening, my darling. I was terribly crass with Field Marshall Ren in front of two ladies of high esteem." He looked genuinely apologetic as couples danced past, eyeing you with curiosity. You realized with a jolt that this event also served as your coming out to society, since you had been born to low station. Although you were already married and there were no courting rituals to be had, you felt an odd melancholy in this sea of strangers. You were now a part of their world in a way you could never truly understand, and you saw why Kylo Ren had chosen you as Hux's bride. You understood why Armitage behaved the way he did in front of them. 

You truly understood. 

You gazed up at him fondly. "Worry not, dearest. There is nothing to forgive." He smiled then, a secret smile, just for you.

You leaned your cheek against his chest and watched as Rey and Kylo passed you, Rey possessing that same far away look in her eyes as Kylo watched you and Hux in confusion. You smirked and snorted, quite unladylike. "What is it, dearest?" You looked up at Armitage once again, enjoying the moment, just you and your husband against the confines of society, the society which had brought you together. "Nothing. I was just considering the nature of our meeting."

"Oh?" He looked nervous. You hummed and smiled in contentment. "I was thinking of how I'm glad for it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot more research for this chapter than any other chapter, I was also maybe gonna have the resistance attack but decided against it. Who knows though, the night is still young. Also sorry if Kylo disappointed you, lmk if you wanna see him be redeemed and maybe see more of Rey!  
> Also, I'm back at school so I'll potentially be posting a little less often. Sorry! Don't forget to comment or leave kudos if you liked this fic!!!!! I know this is kind of a niche ship but if you wanna see more or have any thoughts let me know!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're growing more comfortable in your home. So comfortable, in fact, that a late night visit to your husband's chambers lead to an unexpected series of events.
> 
> Content warning: nudity, fingering, handjobs(ish), vaginal sex, old timey genital vernacular  
> Here's the smut y'all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @meowthist on tumblr

The days after the ball passed in comfortable silence. In the daytime, you sat in the library embroidering, Millicent perched on the arm rest of the loveseat next to you, both of you soaking in the last rays of the summer before the chill of fall became intolerable. 

Armitage would occasionally drop by, kiss the top of your head, and select a tome from the shelves before retreating to wherever he was needed, no doubt studying ancient war tactics and the like.

He had not, however, made an appearance at your chamber door during the nighttime, as had become a sort of routine. You felt a twinge of hesitation when you went to extinguish the light, wondering if you should keep awake just a bit longer if he were to come by. Feeling stupid for waiting for him, you laid in your bed night after night, wondering what he was doing in his room, if he was longing for you like you were for him.

One night, it occurred to you. You could always seek him out yourself.

You tiptoed out of your chambers, gritting your teeth at the squeak of the hinges on the heavy wooden door. Your bare feet plodded silently on the stone, leaching the warmth from your body. You had just passed the portrait of his most recent ancestor ( _Brendol Hux_ , the placard announced) when you realized you hadn't the foggiest clue where his room was. Deliberating whether or not you should attempt to find it through guesswork and potentially embarrass yourself, you almost didn't hear the footsteps echoing towards you. Startled, you shuffled until you realized there was no where to hide, and so you walked back in the direction of your room as if that had been where you were headed all along.

Whomever it was had spotted you, and called out your name. Relieved, you turned to see your husband walking towards you with impish delight. As he approached, he spoke softly, "What could my wife be doing outside her room at such an hour?" 

Sheepishly, you stared down at the floor, and considered how to respond for a stretching moment. Reaching out, your husband tilted your chin towards him in that way that was beginning to make you melt. Gazing into his eyes, glowing in the moonlight, you couldn't stop yourself from responding, "I wanted to see you."

A smile spread across his face, and again, you stared in wonderment at the expression that so rarely crossed his features. A few weeks ago you wouldn't have dreamed that you could feel this way about him, the man who had taken everything from you, but now had given you so much more in return. 

"What's stopping you, my dear?" he murmured, rubbing his thumb over your chin. You blushed. "I couldn't seem to remember the exact location of your chambers." Remember was an intriguing word choice, considering you hadn't known at all in the first place. 

He chuckled, the sound swallowed up by the dark hallway. "Allow me to show you the way," he said, taking your hand and leading you down the corridor. 

His soft hand holding yours made your heart skip a beat, silly considering all you had shared. You followed him through the winding halls, crossing the path of a guard or two as you went, before finally arriving at a door much like your own. 

He smiled at you shyly before pushing it open, revealing a desk strewn with papers and diagrams and a high stack of books. His bed was properly made, and the room was full of his scent, something that made your head swim with happiness. You made your way inside, where you discovered Millicent lazing on his desk chair. "Millie!" you whispered in delight, scooping her up to her protestation. "I'd wondered where you went off to at night. I see you've been held hostage," you cooed, nuzzling your hand against her soft cheek.

Armitage came up to the two of you, aiding you in your quest to stroke her into an early grave. "She visits of her own free will, I assure you." Despite his words, the wily cat wriggled free of your grasp and jumped down with incredible agility, making her escape through the cracked door. 

Sitting on the bed with a resigned sigh, you gazed out the window into the night as Armitage sat next to you and placed his hand in yours. "What's on your mind, my dear?" he murmured. Distracted, you smiled at him. "Nothing in particular." You leaned your head on his shoulder. You weren't sure how to tell him that cradling Millicent like a babe with your husband at close attention had caused a strange ache to settle behind your breast bone. 

He threaded his fingers through yours, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company.

The way he rubbed his thumb over your skin made the base of your skull itch with that something you didn't know the name for. It swelled in your chest until you felt like you might burst from the size of it. You raised your head and looked at him square in the face, which you normally didn't have the courage to do. Armitage noticed. He dipped his head low to you.

"Is something the matter?" he raised your intertwined fingers to his lips, ghosting them across the back of your hand. Your heartbeat skipped as the register of his voice traveled lower, something burning inside of you. "I-" You didn't know quite what to say, entranced by the patterns he traced with his mouth. Something felt different from all the other occasions you had been alone together. There was a glow inside of you, consuming you as your breath hitched. You were transfixed, mouth popping open when his tongue darted out to taste your skin. A spark of arousal shot up your spine as the trail left by his tongue cooled in the air. Your eyes met his, and you realized he had been watching you with rapt attention. He almost seemed to beg permission silently, asking to take his actions a step further.

You nodded nearly imperceptibly, and then he was upon you, kissing you with a need you had encountered perhaps once or twice, but never without cajoling, and this was passion given freely, seemingly without end. Where normally he was gentle and giving, now he was desperate and fervent, kissing you like you were water and he was a man dying of thirst. You whined when his hands found your waist and he led you to straddle his lap, kissing him back with equal fire and need and that something, creeping up in the back of your mind, because you knew exactly what it was, and dared not speak its name. 

You let him bite your lip before your tongue slipped into his mouth and he groaned, welcoming the intrusion with enthusiasm. You felt uncharacteristically bold and cherished as he ran his hands over your sides in worship. His hand squeezed your hip, and you cried out. You broke the kiss, panting while he watched you with adoration. An errant lock of hair had escaped his perfect style, and you brushed it back with infinite affection, cupping his cheek in the process.

You suddenly became overwhelmed, and you knew that if you didn't tell him your true feelings you'd likely blurt them at a more inopportune time, if that were even possible.

He turned his head to kiss your palm, face flushed adorably. You couldn't help yourself. "I love you." 

Your admission hung in the air. The room was incredibly still as doubt and regret began to sink their icy claws into your heart. Had you misconstrued the past few weeks? The last few days? Minutes, even? Did he not feel the same? The anxiety must have began to show itself on your face, because he leaned in to peck your already swollen lips. He rested his forehead against yours. "I never thought in a thousand lifetimes I could ever be worthy to receive your love. Now that I have, I'm afraid I've been paralyzed by disbelief, forgive me. I love you, in return. Of course I do." He kissed you again, pulling back to watch you smile. Another peck, and you felt his own smile on your lips.

The kiss deepened, his tongue pressing against yours, a sizzling burn settling deep in your stomach as you sighed. He loved you. Something inside you had flipped, a hunger had awoken that reared its head and roared when his fingers pressed into your leg through the fabric of your night dress. You almost felt you finally had permission to want him in this way, covetous desire overwhelming you as he hiked up the thin layer of fabric and slid a hand up your naked thigh. A whimper escaped you at his brazen touches, his lips making a trail from your mouth to your neck. Your face was on fire with the knowledge that he was so close to the place where an ache settled whenever you engaged with each other in this manner. His hand under your chemise had ceased its ascent, but was trailing back and forth, driving you mad with desire.

You pushed your husband back on the bed, his mouth freed from its place on your throat. Shaking fingers made short work of the buttons on his night shirt, and you stared at the blush that traveled from his face down to the smooth plains of his chest. You pushed away the fabric from his shoulders as he stared up at you in wonderment, his hands grasping your own when the shirt pooled behind him on the bed.

He came up to cup your cheek and press his lips to yours, all gentle touches as his bare chest pressed against you, your nipples hardening under your chemise.

Goosebumps traveled down your arms when you felt his hard length pressing incessantly against your thigh. Gasping, you tentatively brushed your fingers over it, relishing your husbands moan of enthusiasm as he bucked into your hand. Suddenly embarrassed, you felt a watery smile rise to your lips. You were surely about to burst into flames with the sheer lewdness of your actions. Sensing your hesitation, Armitage showered you with kisses, pressing his affection into every smack of your lips. He nuzzled his cheek against yours. "We needn't go on, my love." He punctuated his words with another peck. "Perhaps we might've rushed things a bit. My last wish is for your discomfort," he said, looking into your eyes. You shook your head, determination setting in.

"I want to. Please, husband," you whispered, leaning in to nibble on his bottom lip as you felt him suck in a breath. He fingered the edge of your chemise as your lips slotted together, clearly asking permission to remove the garment. In answer, you placed your hands over his, helping him slip it off of you, breaking the kiss.

Fully naked, you couldn't fight the urge to cross your arms over your chest as Armitage chuckled at your modesty. He gave you a chaste kiss before flipping your positions, your arms falling to your sides in surprise as he drank in the sight of you in the moonlight.

"Beautiful," he whispered, leaning down to skate his lips over your collarbone. Trembling, you took note of the fact that he was still frustratingly clothed below his waist before his fingers trailed down and cupped your sex. Yelping, you grabbed hold of him and trapped his hand between your legs, embarrassment flooding you once again. A whine escaped your mouth when his tongue trailed a line up your neck to your ear, a fresh wave of desire rippling through you. "My love," he murmured in dulcet tones against your throat. "I need you to open your legs for me, dearest." Flushing and whimpering at his brazen request, you separated your knees incrementally before his fingers found your quim, and you realized quickly how deeply your gasps of pleasure affected him as he growled and nipped your earlobe.

Your eyelids fluttered as he ran his fingers over your slit and a jolt of electricity traveled up your spine. You were a wanton woman as he gathered your wetness, his mouth sucking bruises into your skin. He rutted against your leg desperately while he touched you, the part of you that no one had ever touched before. Without warning, a finger slipped inside and you practically shouted, "A-Armitage!"

He startled, his hand leaving you instantly. Before he could say anything, you leaned in and sealed your lips over his, tugging incessantly at the waistband of the cloth still covering him. 

He helped you remove the last article of clothing separating you, his cock standing at attention, a pearlescent liquid weeping from the tip. You reached to swipe it off, licking it from your fingers as his mouth popped open in shock. It was bitter and musky, but something about its taste made you quiver with excitement and want to drain every last drop of it that you could from his body. Later, you decided. There was a different ache overwhelming you with its urgency at present.

Suddenly brave, you brought your hand to your sex and touched yourself for the very first time, feeling your own wetness lubricate your fingers. You nearly screamed when you passed over the nub at the apex of your quim, unaware it was possible to elicit such a powerful reaction from your body.

Armitage watched you all the while, arousal dusting his sharp features with a pink blush while you touched yourself for his eyes only. He stopped you, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his mouth, cleaning your fingers. He moaned as his eyelids fluttered shut, his naked member grinding on your thigh once again.

You had never experienced anything this erotic in all your years, nothing had ever come close. Nightly visits to your room seemed like child's play next to him licking and sucking on your fingers with worship. 

Your breath hitched when he stopped, staring down at you with affection. You no doubt looked like a fool, mouth parted with lust. Armitage smiled at you anyway, leaning down to your lips, the both of you pressing the taste of each other into the others mouth. You should be disgusted, you thought. Two people joined in a holy union under the eyes of God should not behave this way. And yet, you found yourself welcoming the slide of his tongue against yours as his hand traveled back down, his finger sliding in with more ease as you writhed and bucked against his hand.

"A-Aa! Armitage," you breathed, lust changing you into someone unrecognizable. You felt positively filthy, and you loved it more than you'd care to admit in the cold light of day. The wrongness of it, which had filled you with hesitation and embarrassment before, spurred you to whine in his ear, savoring the drag of his fingers inside you as he added another digit. "My love," he whimpered when your hand came down to stroke his blushing member. "I fear if we continue in this manner there will be no chance of consummation." Looking at him, you realized he was right. Fascinated, you watched as his eyes nearly rolled into his head when you swiped your thumb over the tip of his cock. "Ngh, my dear, please," he begged, which only intrigued you further. 

"What is it, husband," you teased, slowing your movements but not stopping, watching as his face flushed an even deeper scarlet while he tried to restrain himself. His fingers had stilled in you, and you shivered at the squelch as he removed them from you. "Tell me what it is you want," licking the shell of his ear, a seductress possessed you only momentarily as you flipped over again, suddenly on top of his blushing form. Leaning down, you kissed him with ardor as he grabbed your hips, hands traveling down to squeeze your buttocks, a moan escaping him. "I want you," he said against your lips, whispering your name. Face reddening, you inhaled sharply as his hand traveled to find your clitoris, gasping breaths escaping you as a strange heat ran up your spine, his fingers bringing you quickly to a peak you hadn't known you were capable of reaching. Waves of pleasure roiled over you as you squeaked and moaned a breathy, "Armitage." Finally, your toes curled and you nearly choked, his hand trapped between you as you buried your face in his neck and cried out, encouraging him to draw out the spasms of your body that were quickly overwhelming you. Wetness pooled between your thighs even more, and you realized drool was beginning to fall in thick rivulets from your mouth as your body settled into a pleasant hum.

Your eyes cleared, and you peeled yourself off of his chest, blushing as you realized you were dripping on him. His eyes were full of affection, watching you come down from the heavens with patience. Your breathing hitched when he moved his agile digits against you again, causing tears to spring forth with overstimulation. "Armitage," you whined. He kissed the tears away, releasing you when you bit his bottom lip. You sighed in relief, sinking into another deep kiss, enjoying the pressure of the hand on your back keeping you steady. You felt his member prod at your entrance when you shifted, causing a groan to fall from your husbands mouth. You kissed his cheek and murmured, "I haven't been a very attentive wife." Your hand reached between your legs to rub his cock against you before he could reply, Armitage crying out when the head slipped in. You tried to control your laborious breathing but found it difficult, the tip of him already a snug fit. He chanted your name like a prayer, pressing his lips to yours before you sat up on your heels, sinking down onto him at a snails pace.

His fingers gripped your hips with punishing force as he fought not to buck up into you, desperately trying to maintain his composure. Meanwhile you tried to remain calm, your body protesting against such a large intrusion. There was no pain to be had, nor pleasure. You shivered at the fullness when you finally sank down all the way, staring at your husband while he shook.

A concerned hand cupped his face, and he turned his head to kiss it. "Are you alright, wife?" he murmured, nuzzling you, calming himself. "Quite," you whispered, rubbing your thumb across his cheekbone. "I love you," he breathed out shakily as you rose up slowly, neck tingling, focusing on the drag of him inside of you. A moan fell from his lips when you sank down again, his head falling back and his eyes squeezing shut while sweat beaded on his brow. You leaned forward to kiss him and whispered against his mouth, "Move." You heard a strangled sound before he trapped you in an embrace and thrust into you, a bolt of pleasure shooting from your belly as you cried out. 

"Agh- Aa! Armitage! A-Armitage please," you heard yourself saying as he latched onto your neck and laved his tongue over your skin, moaning and using your body for pleasure as you returned his thrusts with equal fervor. This was far preferable to moments ago, accustomed to his size, your enthusiastic noises mixing together in his chambers. "I love you," he whispered into the crook of your neck. "I love you, I love you, ah, dear God, I'm-" he choked on his words, biting the skin of your shoulder as he pumped you full of his seed. You whined while he spasmed and moaned in relief. The sensation of hot cum inside of you nearly sent you into another fit much like the one you had experienced against his fingers. You dotted his face with kisses, helping him to come down as he slipped out of you. You blushed when you felt his warm seed drip from your quim.

Settling next to him on the bed, you watched as he turned to regard you with sleepy fondness. His fingers caressed your cheek, and you were suddenly bashful, embarrassed by your actions.

"That was-" he started, cut off by your lips. You sat up, as if to leave, but he held you fast, trapping you in his embrace. "Don't go," he murmured suddenly, uncharacteristically. You would've expected sarcasm, a saucy quip; not sincerity, plainly written on his face, baring his vulnerability. You looked down at him, your husband, and the swelling in your heart, which you had always known was love, became a steady beat in your chest.

"Never," you whispered. "Never."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this took a lot out of me, and was kind of extra hard because I only wanted to write the sexy parts when my roommate was gone. I had to do a lot of research into Regency era underwear, happy to discover that the people of the time slept commando.  
> I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, it took a lot of restraint not to listen to my femdom instincts and make Hux pay. But who knows! Maybe Reader will find the courage one day ;)  
> Please please please let me know what you thought or if you liked it in a comment and be sure to leave kudos if you've read this far! A million kisses to everyone keeping up with this fic, it's really a labor of love.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and your husband enjoy married life, and all the pleasures that come with it. But something is coming, a force to shake your marital bliss.
> 
> Content warning: Cunnilingus, more vaginal sex (pretty rough), lots of crying. More smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @meowthist on tumblr

The next morning you were roused from your slumber by sleepy kisses pressed to your cheeks. A smile crept over your lips in your haze while you stretched, joints popping pleasantly before you realized you were still naked. 

Yelping, you ripped the bed sheet to your chest in an attempt to guard what was left of your modesty while the previous night's events slowly came back to your recollection. You groaned, remembering your rude hands and brazen behavior. A fine woman indeed! To speak to your husband in such a manner, to take pleasure so freely. You buried your face in your hands, the sheet falling away from you as Armitage reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

"What is it, love?" he questioned, unfazed by your embarrassment. He hummed in amusement when you moved your pinky, peeking at him between the gap in your fingers. A nest of orange hair greeted you, settled on top of his smug head.

"I hope you can forgive me, Armitage. For my entirely unladylike behavior." He chuckled, taking your hand and forcing you to look at him. "There's nothing to forgive, dearest. If anything, I was ungentlemanly," he said. You swatted him. "Don't tease, darling. I'm being serious." 

"Oh, I'm aware," he murmured, kissing your palm. "And I intend to show you exactly how ungentlemanly I can be." 

You gasped in surprise when he pushed you back down onto the bed, kissing you expertly and drawing a moan from you. His hand traveled to your thigh, pushing you up as he traveled down, kissing a path to your stomach. Teeth grazed the delicate skin below your belly button, and you could feel your pulse thrumming in your ears when his breath rustled the curls under it. "Armitage," you whispered, fighting back a loud moan as he kissed you there, that forbidden place where unspeakable pleasures laid. 

In answer, one of his hands came up to gently caress your breast, another surprised gasp falling from your lips. His thumb passed over your nipple, a short, "Ha-a!" escaping you at the unexpected sensitivity. Goosebumps traveled across your skin at his touch, firm but not too hard, gentle still. Just like him. His hand slid back down, both coming to rest at your thighs, gazing at you as he parted your legs. You whimpered, nervous to be bare to him. He kissed the inside of your thigh gently, reverently. Calming you. Your heart fluttered.

"Breathe," he murmured against you, never taking his eyes off of your face. His attention caused a gush of wetness, and you gasped when he trailed a finger over your slit, pushing in slowly. Your back nearly arched off of the bed as you whined, blood rushing to your ears. 

He pumped in and out, his eyes still stuck on you. Watching you. You screwed your eyes shut, embarrassment at your overwhelming arousal making you incapable of watching yourself be defiled. They flew back open with a gasp when his teeth grazed your skin, applying teasing pressure. While he removed his finger, his mouth moved ever closer to your quim, and you watched with rapt attention as he finally brought his lips to that little nub and sucked, hard. 

"Ah!" you shouted. Your body nearly folded in half as you grabbed a hold of his hair to ground yourself, shivering at the appreciative moan that resulted. "Armitage," you drew out with a sigh, head falling back, almost petting him when he licked a stripe up your pussy. He reduced you to a trembling mess within minutes, mysteriously good with his tongue. You looked down at him, the angle a bit awkward from where you were sitting, nestled among the pillows. 

What you saw dropped into the pit of your stomach like the seed of dark desire.

His hair was even more of a mess where your fingers had mussed it, his face beet red, his hands gripping your thighs like they were the only thing keeping him from slipping into insanity. You watched with fascination while he moved his hips against the bed. You realized these activities had aroused him into an uncontrollable state.

You weren't sure if this revelation was what sent you over the edge, or if it perhaps was his plush mouth sucking your bud one final time. Whatever the case, you found yourself writhing, grinding against his face as he drew your orgasm out of you, listening to you pant and moan and cry. You forgot to be embarrassed when you gripped his hair again, harder, pulling him closer to you, almost not hearing his strangled groan of pleasure. 

All of the muscles in your body relaxed when you finished, and your limbs settled into those lovely soft tingles that you had learned usually accompanied these activities. Armitage climbed the bed to meet you, his member soft, and you realized when you looked down at the sheets that he had had his release, as well. Blushing even more, though you weren't sure that was possible, you accepted his lips against yours, groaning at the taste of yourself on him, the absolute impropriety of it all. To have your husband service you in such a way, well, you had only heard of such things in your novels, the secret ones you had found in unsavory shops and squirreled away, lest some person find them and judge your character. Despite the suspicion that these books were degrading your morality, you convinced yourself that a woman had to be knowledgeable to what she'd be in for when it came time to do what married people are want to do. Regardless, you smiled when your husband pulled back to look at you and wrinkled your nose when he wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. This level of intimacy was one you had never thought yourself capable of experiencing, and love bubbled in your chest, gazing on Armitage Hux. Your husband.

___

Curious though you were as to why your husband hadn't been visiting you leading up to your night of passion, you found it to be a non-issue when your affects found themselves sitting amongst his possessions, and his room became yours. You sensed something in him, a powerful longing for affection that had boiled over when he had attempted to give you space. His hugs became deeper, his kisses softer, his touches lingered and made you shiver. 

He made love to you in the library when he was sure no one would interrupt, fingers digging into your skin while he took you from behind, muffling your cries with a glove stuffed into your mouth. He wiped the sweat from your brow when he was done, bringing you to completion with his hand under your layers of skirts, smiling and kissing you all the while. In the night he whispered sweet things in your ear while he moved against you, both of you promising forever between gasps and sighs. You didn't think anything could stop the waves of your happiness crashing onto the shore of your love.

You were wrong.

___

It was inevitable, you supposed. After all, you were the one who had wondered when the army would actually fight in the war, instead of plodding around small villages in the country. Now was as good a time as any, Field Marshall Ren had seemingly decided. Armitage, since receiving word of his assignment, had been caught between moods; a doting husband one moment, pensive and sad the next. Meanwhile, you weren't sure what to make of his leaving. You had finally found love, in the most unexpected place you ever could have imagined. And soon he would be gone. Maybe forever. You tried not to think of that, focusing on the winter winds outside that blew from the north, shaking the bare trees, skeletal and gloomy. 

The dead grass swayed through the fields, the grey sky punctuating your misery. You stared through the window, fingers scratching the rough stone idly. You had stood here, months ago. Watched by your husbands ancestors. 

A set of footsteps approached you, like had happened then, only this time you had a different caller. Strong arms enveloped you, chin resting atop your head. Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over when you heard a shaky sigh. 

"Don't go," you whispered. You dared not speak a higher volume, lest the wobble in your voice give you away. You felt a kiss press into your hair and closed your eyes, a tear falling freely. Your heart was a leaden weight, chest bursting with a trapped sob. "It's not fair," you said, face burning with sorrow and regret. Regret for having pushed him away so long, for not seeing him for what he truly was. A fine man. A good husband.

He held you tighter.

"My love-" he began, but you twisted around in his arms, hands on his chest, gazing into his eyes with all the passion and sadness you felt inside. "Don't," you whispered. "Don't make any false promises. Just come back. Don't tell me. Just do it." He looked down at you, lost for words. His hand rubbed the small of your back, his comforting gesture. A well of emotion traveled up your body, and your tears flowed silently. His eyes were red-rimmed, and you realized he had been crying, too. Your husband looked at you so wistfully, so longingly, it broke your heart all over again. You inhaled a wet lungful of air when he leaned in. He kissed you slowly, softly, and even though he hadn't said anything, you knew everything he wished to tell you. He had a way of doing that. His hand rested on your hip, pressing you into the wall as your tears mixed together. He stole your breath away, every time. The hand not trapping you cupped your jaw, tilting your head up, thumb brushing your cheek. Your heart swelled, a familiar feeling. So why did it make you even more miserable?

Despite yourself, a low whine escaped you, your neck tingling with warmth. "You drive me mad," he whispered against your lips, pressing his hips into yours, making you cry out softly. "I can't bear to be without you, my darling, my angel, my life. Every spare second, every thought is dedicated to you, my love. You never leave my mind." He threaded his fingers through yours, bringing your intertwined hands up to your chest as he kissed you, holding you in place with his presence, his perfection. He groaned into your lips, desperate to feel you, no doubt counting the seconds to his nearing departure. He pulled back and spoke your name, voice wet with tears yet unshed. "I never knew love until I knew you." His eyes held so much meaning, you almost didn't know what to say.

Squeaking, you wrapped your arms around his neck when he lifted you, carrying you like a bride to your chambers, sober at the sight of your nearly empty room. Would you sleep here when he left? Most of you belonged with him now, surely he'd want you to stay in the room where you had whispered your confession of love not so long ago? 

Your chain of thoughts was broken when he lowered you onto the bed and took his place on top of you, gripping your thigh through layers of fabric, pushing them up to reveal you, bare, ready for him as always.

He growled, slotting his mouth against yours when your fumbling hands went to remove his trousers, barely managing to get them past his knees before he slid into you with no resistance, your eyes nearly rolling into your head at the size of him, the fullness, the friction, all of it. You bit his lower lip when he bottomed out, shameless moans falling from your mouth. You'd never be used to his size. His passionate love making, usually slow and building, was now desperate and fervent as he slammed into you, your cunt drawing moans of ecstasy from his throat. You begged him for more, needing him in more ways than one as he thrust, groaning his love for you into the crook of your neck. He pulled back, looking into your eyes, and you watched while he became slowly debauched, lips swollen from biting kisses, face red and tear-stained. You sniffled, more tears coming to the fore when you thought of how much you'd miss him. 

"Husband," you said with a tinge of desperation. You cupped his cheek, and he caught it with his hand. "Wife," he whispered back. His cock inside of you was driving you insane, and you clamped down on him, watching with satisfied affection when he choked. "I-I love you, my dearest, my everything. I love you," he chanted it in time with his thrusts, pushing you up the bed and slamming the headboard against the wall with his force.

You wailed, you had never been taken so hard, so thoroughly. You whimpered when he pushed his thumb into your mouth, and you sucked on it, unsure why this was stoking the heat in your belly, but accepting it all the same. His eyes on you were burning, memorizing every inch of your face with lascivious desire. His slow descent into depravity was fueling your lust, your thrusts in time with his, every slam into your tight cunt reminding you to make this count before he'd be taken from you.

Your back arched off the bed when he lifted your thighs and changed the angle. You almost screamed at how rough he was being, fucking you through your clothes like this was the last time he'd ever see you again. You supposed that was possible, and you relished each bruising kiss, each desperate moan, his fingers digging into your thighs, sure to leave bruises.

"Can't-Much longer, I'm-A-Ah-" he stuttered, smashing his lips into yours as he came, mumbling nonsense, filling you to the brim with his spend. You shuddered, embarrassed at how much you enjoyed the feeling. You tried to control your breathing as your sweat cooled, and a sob burst out of you. 

Armitage's eyes widened, and he pulled out instantly, concerned. He said your name, a question. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" You shook your head. "Never, you could never hurt me." The tears in your eyes seemed foolish when you thought of how ardently he had just made love to you, how intense and satisfying it had been.

He'd be gone tomorrow.

He lay next you on his side, errantly playing with a lock of your hair. Silence stretched between you, miles long, a distance that would soon be physical. "I already miss you," you whispered to the ceiling. He looked at you, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips. Your throat burned with grief, preemptive, you knew. You had a habit of assuming the worst. 

He shifted to sit up, holding you in his arms as you openly sobbed, his silent tears falling on your face from where he sat above you. Partners in misery.

"I'll be back," he said. You only cried harder. "I will. You told me not to make promises, and I won't. But I'll come back." He held you tighter, his tears dotting your forehead. 

"I love you," you whispered, turning to look at him. "I love you dearly, desperately, you evil man." He smiled. "How dare you trick me into loving you," you teased, ignoring the fat drops rolling off your face. "Not a trick," he murmured when you took his face in your hands and kissed his tears away. "Our love is real. My heart will be waiting here with you while I'm gone, my dear." You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his.

"I know."

___

He was gone in the morning, a kiss pressed to your cheek before he left. You wanted to cling to him, beg him to stay. You knew that wasn't what he wanted, despite everything.

It made you bitter.

You lay in bed the whole day, ignoring Phasma's tentative knock at the door. You'd give yourself the day. Just the day, to wallow. And then you'd spring back, the mistress of this estate, unshaken. Resume your limited duties overseeing the house, return to your routine with your faithful companion, Millicent. Your amorphous sadness would not overcome you. 

For now, you had the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry!! I've been texting a guy and he's not texting back so I got really sad and wrote this instead of doing my mountain of homework. I hope you guys enjoy! Please comment and leave kudos and bookmark and blah blah blah. I really appreciate every interaction and honestly check everyday to see if anything's happened.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your husband is gone, an old friend tells you the truth, and you wonder how you're meant to face him when he returns.
> 
> Content warning: more smut >:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @meowthist on tumblr

Your fingers were cramping from overuse by the time you received the first letter from your husband. Embroidery had consumed your days. Sitting by the fire in the main room, you often daydreamed of soft lips on your cheek, a familiar voice calling your name. 

It made you indolently sad to think of him, but you pressed on.

Millicent kept you constant company. It seemed she longed for her master too, becoming overly affectionate and clingy. She was purring, belly up next to you when Phasma came in and handed you the letter, your husbands seal staring up at you. Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. "From Master Hux, my Lady. I know you've been waiting to hear from him." She looked anxious herself. Absently taking the letter opener from her, you considered that she had been a servant of the house for a long while before you had arrived. Their personal history was a mystery to you, but she obviously cared for Armitage in some capacity.

You tried not to let that thought run away from you as you broke the seal and your eyes devoured the familiar scrawl. He began by addressing you by name, his dearest. You blushed.

_I hope this message finds you in good spirits. I apologize for taking leave so abruptly. The Field Marshal has shown himself to be an oaf, better suited for the battlefield than his station. How I'd love to cut direct and end this conquest. This campaign shan't separate us forever, my love. My troops are exceptionally trained, and I pray that this fight will end soon, so I may return to you and our dearest Millicent. I will try to write as often as possible while in command. I hope Phasma is keeping you adequate company while I'm away. Please write if you're in need of a listening ear, or perhaps on the off chance you find yourself missing me._

_Your loving husband,_

_Armitage Hux_

You clutched the letter in your hands. Your eyes drank in every word, and you skimmed it twice over before you turned to Phasma. 

"Armitage sends his love," you whispered. "He's alright, then?" Phasma asked. You looked back at the message, tracing the letters he had inked to spell out your name with your finger. "Yes. I quite think so," you replied, stroking Millicent absentmindedly. She bowed politely. "Then I'll leave you to your thoughts, Miss." You hummed, thanking her, and then you were alone again. You and the cat. 

The off chance you found yourself missing him.

You sniffed, tears collecting like dewdrops on a misty morning. That foolish man. Millicent mewed, butting her head against the back of your hand. You scritched her ears, comforted by her warmth and affection. You were sorely in need of it. You stood, and she jumped down from her seat to follow as you floated toward the pianoforte, fingers brushing the keys and striking an errant note. 

An acute pain was piercing your heart, numbness seizing your body as you drifted. The message was still in your hand as you traveled, not quite sure where you were destined. The scent of books; crinkled pages and well ink and dust permeated your senses, and you realized you had arrived in the library. Your throat closed and you choked back a sob. Of course you'd end up here. Fingers ghosted the spines of books perched on shelves; world maps, books on strategy, history... fiction?

You straightened, plucking the volume from where it sat. Millicent cried incessantly, rubbing herself against your exposed ankle while you studied the book. _Pride and Prejudice_ , the cover boasted. You ran your fingers over the gilded letters. It was new, newer than the other volumes, but the spine was cracked. Was this Armitage's? You turned it over, the texture grating your palms. You contemplated why Armitage would be in possession of such romantic literature. Glancing up, you wondered what other secret treasures lay hidden amongst the usually bland selection.

You set the book down on the writing desk, pulling the chair out and seating yourself. Millicent hopped up, watching you while you reached for a piece of parchment, dipped the quill in the inkwell, and wrote your husband a reply.

_My dearest Armitage,_

_Words will not allow me to convey the egregiousness of my longing for you. The very notion that I would not miss you is apropos to insanity. I dream of your face every night, your sweet kisses and pealing laughter. Though you have been gone only a short few weeks, I can think of nothing but your return. I am consumed by you, in every way, my love. I can only hope for your safety, and success in your perfidious endeavors overseas._

_Your doting wife._

You signed your name with a flourish, tears threatening to spill and stain the parchment. That simply wouldn't do, and you dabbed at your eyes before turning to Millicent, who stared at you, closing her eyes incrementally while the ink dried. "Was that perhaps too much?" you whispered. She purred. "I'm being too dramatic," you stared at your words. "Far, far too dramatic, by far," you mumbled. Millicent meowed in reply.

You stared at her.

Looked back at the letter.

"I'm talking to a cat," you grumbled, placing your head in your hands. Millicent head butted your forearm, seemingly oblivious to your internal turmoil. You sighed, resolving to seal the letter and send it tomorrow.

You plodded to your chambers, your new chambers, Armitage's message in hand. Millicent followed dutifully behind, your silent companion. Reaching the wooden doors, you tried to find comfort in your husband's scent. It washed over you when you lay in your bed, still in your day clothes, clutching the letter to your chest. You held it up to your eyes, studying Armitage's handwriting in the near-darkness. Careful; done with a steady and well-trained hand. So much like him. More tears welled in your eyes. You wondered if you would ever stop crying as the droplets fell to the sheets, soaking in wet patches. 

So much of your life on the estate reminded you of when you had first arrived, months ago; an unhappy and reluctant newlywed. Lonely, quiet days spent in a lonely estate. You gripped the quilt you had made for Armitage after he left, the fabric cold and unyielding. 

You chafed with guilt, remembering your past self. How quickly you had judged Armitage, how ready you had been to place blame on him for your predicament. He was as much a victim as you. You'd have to apologize one day, you thought, as a blanket of fatigue settled over you.

You drifted in the world between wakefulness and sleep, barely feeling the weight of your other scruffy ginger housemate sink into the bed beside you as your swollen eyes slipped shut.

___

By the time you finished reading _Pride and Prejudice_ , your casual acquaintance with Phasma had grown into a hesitant companionship. You read Armitage's letters regarding the war front with her at your side, but kept the more romantic segments to yourself. It was a non-issue; she couldn't read. But it was obvious that she cared about Mr. Hux enough to be concerned about the progression of his assignment, and so you read together, desperate for news of his return.

Phasma was, initially, a character much like your husband; untrusting and cold. As you became familiar with her personage (an admittedly very limited amount), you realized they were similar in more ways than one. Their family histories were shrouded in mystery, and she refused to speak on the status of parents or siblings. In fact, she would immediately become cold and defensive at any mention of her family, and find some excuse to leave.

The seed of suspicion had been planted, but what was one to do? You couldn't force the truth out of her. You let it alone.

Anyway, she was good company when you read your husbands letters. She encouraged you to keep hope, convinced the strength of the military would prevail. 

You wanted to believe her.

___

One day, you had a visitor. You greeted Rey with an embrace, one she returned with enthusiasm. It delighted you to see her returning to her old self.

"My my Rey, you might've told me you were planning a visit. I would've had a room prepared," you chided her playfully. You linked arms, glad to see a familiar face. Millicent had run off someplace, no doubt scared off by the threat of strangers. "I apologize, old girl. I just had to leave that empty house," her face scrunched in disdain. "And it's my understanding that you're living much the same, dear." You nodded in confirmation. "It's just that I know travel to be treacherous in this weather," you replied, referencing the light snowfall that had coated your estate like a blanket of soft down. "I'd be inconsolable if you were to be lost on your way to see me."

"You old worry-wort," she scrunched her nose at you.

You made your way to the main room, setting her in front of the fireplace to stave off the chill already setting into your bones.

"Tea, m'lady," Phasma said softly, setting down the tray and backing out. You noticed, discreetly, her eyes narrowing in distrust at your guest. You never would've noticed, in another life. You wondered what reason she had to distrust Rey.

Whatever the case, you lifted your cup from its saucer and sipped delicately, relishing her company.

You watched her glance at you from the corner of your eye and smiled. "How different things are," she murmured, and you almost didn't hear her. You swallowed, nodding.

"Are things much different with Mr. Ren?" you asked nonchalantly, trying to remain casual despite your simmering distrust of him. Rey cleared her throat awkwardly. "It's certainly better," she said unconvincingly. "In fact, he is why I called on you today," she said, smoothing her skirt. You tried not to visibly show your surprise. In the months since the ball, she hadn't sent so much as a letter conveying the state of her marriage to Mr. Ren. Something serious must have occurred.

"My husband has corresponded in massages that he is to return in a fortnight," she began. Your eyebrows must have lifted comically high, because she proceeded to nod. "I imagine you haven't been informed." You lifted your cup from its saucer and tried to still your shaking hand. "It's the first I've heard of it," you answered, throat dry even as the tea passed your lips.

You felt strangely elated, if not confused. Armitage was to return. He hadn't communicated as much, despite your impression that he longed to come home posthaste. Rey was cryptically silent. She set her tea down as you did.

"I'll be frank. Kylo intends to see your house in disarray," she spoke primly. You fought the juvenile urge to throw your hands up in exasperation. "And what quarrel do I have with him?" you asked. This line of conversation was becoming frustrating rather quickly.

"Not you," she shook her head. "Your husband." You rolled your eyes, propriety be damned. "Of course. But pray tell, what do I care of the quibbles of men? Her tone escalated with her fury, shocking you. She bit out your name as she angrily said, "We may not have been borne to this society's melodramas, but we must bear them nonetheless. Kylo has been facilitating your husbands misery for years, and if you care for him as I suspect you do, you will listen."

Despite yourself, you felt happiness warm your heart. Glimpses of the old Rey were shining through, near visible sparks flying off her as she spoke impassionately. It was a sight to behold.

"There is more to Armitage than you know," she began, somewhat reluctantly. "Has he ever told you what became of his parents?" You shook your head. "He's yet to go into detail," you said grimly. She placed her hand on yours. "You must speak with him," she said, cutting you off as you began to protest. "You must. If he refuses, insist. It is not my place to tell his story, but he owes it to you." You wondered if you looked as pale as you felt.

"My husband arranged your marriage to ensure Mr. Hux's everlasting misery, as well as your own." You nodded. She wet her lips. "It is my understanding that he failed. That you've fallen in love." You looked down, nodding again. Were you so transparent? She continued, "It's to his endless chagrin that you care for each other. Especially since he knows that I could never care for him in that manner." You looked up at her as she stared into the fire, in that distant way she possessed more and more as of late. You felt pity crawl you your throat, but kept it at bay. Rey was the strongest person you knew; she didn't need you to feel any sort of pity on her behalf.

She said your name again. "He's been trying to keep you apart," she said. "After the ball, he conversed with Mr. Hux. He wouldn't tell what they spoke of, but he seemed awfully smug on the journey back to the estate." Her brow furrowed. "I suspect he chose this time to enter the foray in the hopes that some tragedy would befall your husband," she said softly.

Your heart skipped a beat. You gazed into the fire, unsure what came next. Why come back? If Mr. Ren was so intent on your husbands destruction, why allow him home?

"I think he's resolved to let you alone," she said softly. You looked at her again, her elegant profile in view. At least this explained why Armitage had all but avoided you those lonely nights after the ball. Perhaps now you could live the rest of your days in peace. One thing still niggled you, however. "Why tell me?" you asked. "Why not let me live in ignorance if Kylo has failed?"

Rey folded her hands in her lap. "I think you have some right to know the goings on in your husbands life. If you're to live with Mr. Hux, you must demand the truth of him." She picked up her cup and punctuated her statement with a delicate sip. "The worst of it is over. Now it is up to you to corroborate this story with your husband." The knowledge she had imparted was a weight on your chest. 

Your husband was coming home.

And you had questions for him.

___

When he arrived, you didn't greet him as you had months ago. You heard the carriage arrive but remained in the library, petrified with uncertainty. His steps echoed up the stairs while he shouted your name. Armitage turned the corner and saw you, smiling with relief.

You returned it hesitantly, still unsure of your plan. If you even had one. You said his name, tinging your voice with surprise in a way you hoped was convincing.

Your husband approached, and you stood out of habit, drinking him in despite your lingering distrust. He kept secrets, but who didn't? Your misgivings melted away, if only for a second, when he swept you into his arms and kissed you.

You whimpered, fighting to remain upright as his hand drifted to your waist and he held you closer. Your hand cupped his jaw as you sighed. For a moment, you were the only two people in the world. Eventually, the spell broke, and you whispered, "You came back." His gaze shifted between your eyes and lips, distracted as he ran his finger over where he'd kissed you. "I made a promise," he smiled again, his rosy cheeks and bright eyes painting him a cherub.

Your adoration for him overshadowed your need for answers, and you took him by the hand, running towards your shared chambers as fast as could be appropriate.

You heard him chuckle behind you, his laughter was cut short when you pushed through the door without preamble. He barely managed to close it behind you before you tucked yourself into his chest, burying yourself in his uniform, inhaling the scent that had faded in the months he'd been gone.

He wrapped his arms around you instantly, humming when you tilted your head up and pressed your lips to his. The yearning, the passionate sadness, the desolate loneliness you had felt while he was gone; you poured everything in your heart out to him. The fire you thought had been snuffed out in his absence roared to life when he kissed you back, and you could feel the quickening of his heart when you splayed your fingers on his chest. 

"I've missed you," he whispered against your lips. Your kisses slowed to chaste pecks, and he looked into your eyes as he spoke. "I've dreamt of your lips everyday, love." A kiss pressed the corner of your mouth. "You're all I've thought about all these months. It's driven me mad to be without you." A kiss to your cheek while he said your name. "I couldn't stand another second apart." He nuzzled you, pressing his lips to the crease of your jaw.

Your heart fluttered. "You've quite the way with words, Mr. Hux," you teased, gasping when his tongue dipped to taste your skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair and he groaned, walking you backwards until you fell onto the bed. You giggled, the motion still familiar after all this time. "I love you," you muttered. "I'm glad to see you safe," you continued as he kissed you, undressing you carefully. "More than you know."

You unbuttoned his officer's uniform, appreciating the crisp lines and starchy fabric. He pushed the garment off of his shoulders, and you were surprised to see he had gained no small amount of muscle. Your husband blushed upon noticing your distraction, watching you trace the planes of his chest with your little finger. Your shallow breathing nearly stopped when he removed your dress completely, taking in your naked form. You couldn't find it in yourself to feel self-conscious, but you still shivered and trapped him between your legs when he ghosted his lips over yours.

The slow burn inside your belly grew hotter with each slow kiss. Your eager hands went to his trousers, and you managed to remove them without breaking the seal of your lips. His tongue passed your lips and you keened, his fingers skating over your nipple, feather light. 

Breath left your chest in pants as he played with you, your brow furrowing when he pinched, a jolt traveling up your body. "Please," you whined. He smiled devilishly. "Eager," he chided eloquently, hand splayed on your breast, caressing it. "And you're not?" you whispered, biting his lip, inciting a rumbling growl.

He nuzzled until he was at your clavicle, tongue laving over your skin, your pulse racing while your eyes slipped shut. His fingers trailed down until they reached your slit, collecting the wetness there before you ground against his hand. Your husband didn't leave you wanting for long, a finger entering you quickly while you moaned in desperate relief.

You continued in that manner, his mouth at your neck and his fingers in your quim until you were a writhing, mewling mess underneath him. Soon you were begging, begging for him inside of you, begging for all of him. "Please, Armitage," you breathed, eliciting a groan when you said his name. 

Finally, he lined up with your entrance, mumbling hushed praise into your ear. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he pushed into you. 

In the months since he had gone, your body had grown acclimated to his absence, and his member splitting you open was foreign again, a not-uncomfortable intrusion. It was only when he had thrust out, then in again slowly that you began to feel that tingling in your spine. You moaned, the heat radiating from his body covering you, shielding you from the world.

Your nails scratched at his back while he pumped slowly, and you hicupped at the snap of his hips. His cock was stuffing you, filling you after months of lonely nights, your own wandering hands nothing compared to his love making.

He whispered how much he loved you, how much he had missed you while he groaned in relief and happiness into your ear. You kissed his cheek and sighed as he fucked you. "My wife," he whispered. "So patient, waiting for me all this time." You looked up at him, and he seemed strangely anguished in his bliss. 

"Always," you answered before he kissed you, smothering you with his hot mouth. 

He gripped your thighs with his calloused hands and hiked them up, still slow in his thrusts, burning you from the inside out. 

"I love you," he moaned, his voice raising in pitch. You held him closer and licked the shell of his ear as his thrusts became more erratic. You whispered your own honeyed words to him, watching with adoration as he fell apart. Soon he was panting, his sweat mixing with yours as he found his release inside of you, warmth filling your cunt.

He practically collapsed on top of you after pulling out and you laughed, stroking his hair as he mumbled incoherently. "My love," you said in a sing-song voice. He hummed. "We can't lay here all day," you giggled while he wrapped himself around your body. "And why not," he whined. "We've earned it," he mumbled into your ear, making you shiver. "All the same," you chided, dread seeping in when you remembered your task. "We have duties to attend to."

"There's only one duty on my mind at the moment," he whispered, hand drifting back to your sex. You gasped out, "Armitage," when his finger found your little nub and circled it, coating it with his spend. Your hips began moving of their own volition, chasing the friction he provided.

He moved to kiss your neck again, your whimpers floating into the air as he brought you to your climax. You reached it easily, your body convulsing as his fingers moved against you. You gripped his wrist as you came, riding it out with him. Finally, you calmed down, his hand drifting up and tracing circles on the soft skin of your belly. You glanced at him, his face frozen with an enamored expression. Smiling sleepily, you kissed his nose.

"Welcome home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was debating whether or not I should split this into two chapters because it ended up being 4,000 words but I decided that y'all deserve some nice things. I have one more chapter planned and then that should be a wrap on my first semi-long form fic!! Please let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations, and babies. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @meowthist on tumblr

His hair smelled like sunshine. You carded your fingers through it, watching the silky strands. He'd been home a week now. Peaceful sleep engulfed him, and you were glad. He'd spent much of his night in fits, and it worried you to think of all he'd seen, all he'd done.

You nuzzled closer to him, smiling as he gravitated toward you subconsciously, an errant arm holding you close. 

Soft daylight streamed through the window. He'd never slept this late, before his assignment. Thoughts circled your head in a cloud.

You remembered back to Rey, and her urgent warnings, as you often did. Shame flooded you when you thought of yourself and your inability to confront your husband. Each time you tried, the words would stop right before leaving your lips, and you'd simply smile and speak of other, more agreeable topics. 

Armitage hadn't spoken much of his time in the field. You sensed something harsh and haunted was hidden behind his eyes, but he remained your loving husband, doting on you at every turn. 

It worried you.

Still, you were happy to see him home, his soft snores ceasing as he slowly woke, the muscles in his face fluttering. His sleepy green eyes connected with yours, and you blushed. "Waiting on me long?" he joked, his face scrunching as a yawn overtook him.

You turned your head down, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead, his lips dry. "Is something the matter?" he murmured into your hair, still soft in his sleep-addled state.

You bit your lip, uncertain if you wanted to ruin such a lovely morning, but threw caution to the wind. "Mrs. Ren called on us while you were away." He gazed at you softly, unconcerned. "Oh?"

"She notified me of some curious information in your absence." You shifted uncomfortably, still unsure of yourself. Gazing at the ceiling, you sighed and spoke quietly. "What happened to your parents?"

It was eerily silent.

You looked to him and regretted your question, wishing the light mood of the morning would return. Your eyes returned to the window, watching the clouds roll lazily along in the sky as your husband silently stewed. Finally, he spoke. "If I told you, I'm not sure you would look upon me the same." Glancing at him again, you saw fear on his face. It did not suit him.

"My love," you whispered, inching closer to him and tucking your head into his chest. "Nothing you say could ever change my heart. You are the melody that plays in my dreams. You are everything to me. I promise to hear your story without judgement." You heard a deep inhale, and a sigh.

His heart was beating erratically, and you felt it was only partially due to your proximity. He was nervous, extremely so. "You-you don't," he cut himself off with an exasperated sigh. "You know not what you promise, dear," he said finally. You traced little patterns into the soft skin on his belly. Mind racing, you guessed why he was so hesitant to tell you. 

He must have had a hand in it.

In your heart, you tried to keep your promise, and reserve your judgement. You tilted your head, looking up at him. "I know you, Armitage." You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his warm lips. "Whatever sins you bear, let me bear them with you." 

It took most of the morning, but he told you.

__

You shuffled down the hall, still dressed in your nightgown. It was all a bit hard to conceive. 

Armitage, your gentle husband, had poisoned his father. And Phasma had helped him.

As you stepped out, you came across the portraits again, and looked upon his father. Slightly portly, severe, and a tad bit smug. You hadn't needed to wonder what he had done to deserve an end. Armitage wove tales of deliberate beatings, shouted abuses, deafening silences in lonely rooms. His mother had worked in the kitchens, and had been sent away immediately succeeding his birth. His conception had to potential to have been a huge scandal, and he'd been raised to believe his fathers wife to be his true bearer.

She had meanwhile run off with another General, and died in childbirth before Hux was yet a boy. All of this was said with a hint of detachment: a recital of facts, not a tragic list of sadnesses piled onto a man already expected to carry so much.

Despite the fragility of the painting, you raked your figures over his face, feeling the texture of the cracked paint under your fingertips. "My lady?" you heard a quiet voice say. Your head whipped around at Phasma's voice, and you recoiled in fear.

She noticed your reaction and straightened. "He's told you, then?" Taking tiny steps back, you nodded your affirmation. "Good." She seemed sad. Secret sharers must shelter a burden all their own. You supposed it helped forge a connection between them all the same. Perhaps she would miss the intimacy of deception. "Do try not to judge us too harshly." She still possessed her guarded tone, as if she was not entirely pleased you'd joined her as a keeper of secrets. 

You dared not speak. 

She sighed and turned away, steps clicking on the stone. 

__

The next few months passed without incident, and you slowly adjusted to the knowledge that your husband was, for all intents and purposes, a murderer. In your opinion, his father did deserve the end he got. But you couldn't help the sick feeling that came over you when you thought too hard about it. 

You tried not to let it affect your relationship with Armitage, and for the most part, you succeeded. He still doted on you as ever, and you accepted his attentions without complaint. Eventually, you settled into this new existence, a less ignorant existence, and found yourself happier with each passing day. 

Soon, word came from Ren's estate. A pregnancy, confirmed by the town doctor, a baby to be born in the coming months. You delighted at the news, yet felt a hint of trepidation. Rey was still a girl in your eyes, free and untethered. This was not the life she had ever wanted for herself, you knew. And besides, the thought of a baby in her arms sent a pang through you, admittedly a jealous one. You'd like a child yourself, a little cherub with fiery curls and green eyes.

You set to work embroidering a baby blanket, a gift for Rey, when your husband entered the library. He took in the sight of you, Millicent perched dutifully at your feet, soaking in a patch of sunlight. 

Looking up, you blushed at his attentions. "Hello, husband." He quirked a smile at your familiar little greeting, and came to sit beside you.

"A baby blanket?" he asked, leaning into you as much as was proper. "Yes," you murmured. "For Mrs. Ren." You tried to keep the wistfulness from your tone, but failed miserably. His hands came to rest on your arm and rubbed soothingly. 

"It's beautiful," he remarked. He was gazing directly at you.

__

A year to the day, your son was born.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for me to post! I had so much happen in my life that writing kind of fell on the back burner. I hope this ending is satisfying, and that you enjoyed going on this adventure with me! :)


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